The Trouble with Teacher
by NeedANewPen
Summary: ON HIATUS: Scorpius Malfoy is having trouble in his Pre-Hogwarts education. When his teacher, Ms. Hermione Granger, reaches out to his family in an attempt to sort out his problems, will his father be willing to put in the effort to help Scorpius? And better yet, will Draco be willing to put in the effort to help himself when it comes to the heart of the passionate Ms. Granger?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I am not JKR, I do not own Harry Potter, etc.**

 **I've been gone from the scene for a while and thought I'd show up with something different on a new account.**

If anyone had told Draco Malfoy on the day of his Hogwarts graduation where his life would end up, he would have laughed outright in their face, possibly fired off an unforgivable or two, and made his way to his father's office to give him an earful about the _nerve_ that some people possessed.

And yet, here he was.

He hadn't seen his wife in close to a fortnight—she had claimed to be visiting her parents, but when he'd needed someone to watch Scorpius for the evening because of a Ministry engagement not only had her parents not seen her, but they hadn't heard from her in quite some time, making them reasonably unwilling to cooperate with her apparently sequestering husband.

Scorpius was sitting at the dining room table refusing to eat his dinner until he "saw Mummy again", and was making quite an awful lot of noise considering the fact that he was only about four feet tall. Despite Draco having one of the house elves bring in all of Scorpius' favorite foods, even those that he was rarely allowed to indulge in, he still wouldn't eat. Instead, he screamed and carried on as though he were being held at wandpoint—and at that moment in time, Draco was strongly considering the use of the Imperious to just get the boy to eat something, not that he would ever maliciously turn his wand against his own son.

Draco's middle name may have been Lucius, but he was absolutely nothing like his namesake.

So, instead, he sat at the table with his son, outwardly appearing patient with Scorpius' antics, while inside he screamed and cursed Astoria. The chances were really quite high that she was off somewhere with one of her many lovers on some extended trip in some sunny realm far from Wiltshire.

"Scorpius, for every bite of your dinner that you eat I'll give you a bit of dessert," Draco tried to bargain with his son. He may be reformed and the new face of the Malfoy name, but he was still a Malfoy, and as such was most certainly not above bribery to get what he wanted.

"I don't _want_ my dinner! I don't _want_ my dessert! I want my mummy!"

Draco raked a hand down his face, eyes rolling up towards the heavens. _Are you there, Merlin? It's me, Draco..._

"How about a bit of dessert for each bite of dinner, and I'll buy you that new broom that you wanted? Please, Scorpius. It's getting late and I have really a lot to do tonight after you go to bed."

The youngest Malfoy pushed his chin forward and his nose up in an almost exact mimicry of his father at the same age before concluding, "You will also read me a story tonight."

Draco shook his head, taking a long draw from his glass of wine. "No deal—I just told you that I have a lot that I need to do tonight."

Scorpius let his eyes slide shut and sat in his chair as primly and properly as only a Malfoy could. Draco was, understandably confused, but pleased that the noise had finally abated.

He really should not have been reassured, because this was only the calm before the storm, and Draco was sitting smack dab in the eye of the oncoming disaster.

Scorpius drew in a long, steady breath of air, filling his lungs to maximum capacity. His eyes flying open, he let out an absolutely horrendous ear splitting scream, pale cheeks turning a violent shade of red, small body shaking from the force of his theatrics.

" _Oh Merlin's pants_... Fine, Scorpius!" Draco had to shout somewhat to be heard over the noise and he bristled at the indignity of it all. Honestly, this is hardly behavior befitting a Malfoy. "Fine. You'll get your story. Just eat your dinner and stop screaming before every crup in Wiltshire comes running."

While Scorpius had been doing his best impression of a boiling teakettle, a rather handsome owl had arrived at the window and was attempting to tap its way through the glass in an effort to be acknowledged, given the commotion that was occurring in the dining room. As Scorpius finally began to eat his dinner, Draco opened the window and let the owl in, slipping the missive from its leg.

It was a rather fine stationary, and even he had to admit that it was high quality. Unrolling the note, he could feel his frustration with his son building again.

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,_

 _As Scorpius' teacher, I have to admit to you that I am very concerned. He's clearly a very bright young lad, and has been afforded a good lot in life. However, he has a very difficult time with many of the other students in the class, and he often does not pay attention to his lessons. I've given him letters to pass along to you detailing the extent that this is occurring in order to allow the two of you to discuss it with him as a family. However, based on the fact that his behavior has not changed at all, and nor have his marks, I'm assuming that you never came to be in possession of the letters._

 _I am requesting that I meet with one or both of you at your earliest convenience to discuss what can possibly be done. I don't want to see him headed off to Hogwarts without proper preparation, and I know that he has the mental faculties to excel here, but he has not been applying himself to best of his abilities._

 _I'm generally at the school until six o'clock most days, but if you need to set up a meeting time outside of that please let me know so that I can accommodate you in my schedule. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you whenever you can make it in—although, for your son's sake, I really do hope that you find your way to my classroom sooner, rather than later._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Draco looked over at the small body currently shoving bits of chicken into its mouth at an alarming rate. "Do you mind telling me where exactly the letters from Ms. Granger went?"

Scorpius' eyes widened almost comically, and Draco watched him struggle to swallow down the food in his mouth.

"She didn't—"

Draco shook his head. "Try again."

"I was going to—"

Draco sat back down in the chair across from his son, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers, leaning forward ever so slightly towards the boy.

"I really don't think so."

Scorpius sat his fork down—directly on the tablecloth, Draco noted with a cringe—and burst into tears.

"The other children are just so... so... mean! They're all absolutely horrid and they say awful things to me, and I _hate it there!"_

Draco quickly stood and walked around the table to kneel down next to his son. Grabbing his tiny hands in one of his, Draco grabbed Scorpius' chin and tilted it down, forcing his son to look him in the eyes.

"Is that true? Why haven't you said anything?"

With that question, Scorpius burst into a new round of tears, his little shoulders shaking as all sorts of fluids began to run down his face. The thought that there was some little snot nosed brats out there mistreating _his_ son, and Granger had the nerve to say that he 'has a very difficult time' with the other students? Oh no, Draco Malfoy would most certainly be making time to go talk to Ms. Hermione Granger, and it would be _much_ sooner, rather than later.

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The next evening, Hermione Granger sat at her desk in her classroom at the Eaglecall Academy for Young Witches and Wizards grading a set of spelling tests when there was a sharp knock on her door. Waving her hand, the door popped open and in came Draco Malfoy.

Good. Scorpius was really beginning to show signs of being a problem child, and she was very grateful that he had responded to her owl in a very timely manner. Very rarely did she get next day turn around from parents. He and Astoria must be very eager to address the problem.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. Could I get you something to drink before we begin? Water, coffee, tea—"

Draco sat down in the chair across from hers and crossed his arms, leaning back, and looking every bit the prat that he was in school.

"No. Now I want you to tell me exactly what it is that you hope to accomplish by having me here."

Slightly affronted, Hermione sat back down in her chair from where she'd half risen to get Malfoy something to drink. Merlin, she'd nearly forgotten how much of a berk he was.

"Will your wife be joining us, Mr. Malfoy? I would rather not get started without her if she's on her way." Hermione was a firm believer in including both parents in the lives of the children as much as possible, rather than having one parent act as the go-between between the school and the child. Not only that, but she was hoping that Astoria Malfoy's presence might help alleviate some of the nastiness in Malfoy's voice.

"No, she will not. She's... otherwise engaged. Now, I'd like you to answer my question. Why have you called me here?"

Somewhat shocked, Hermione reached down into her locked drawer and pulled out the file that was marked with the youngest Malfoy's name and face. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, the better would be why _haven't_ I called you here? I've recorded every little incident and spat that the children have, and recorded all participants, and your son is at the center of all of them."

Draco nodded, relaxing slightly in his chair. "I'm glad that you've taken note of this fact. I had a long talk with him about this last night. What are you going to do to stop the other children from harassing my son?"

Shocked, Hermione dropped the folder, sheet after sheet of paper scattering across her desk. "Harassing your— Malfoy, I don't know what it is exactly that Scorpius has been telling you, but he's not the victim here. He instigates most of the strife that occurs here on the grounds, and I've had multiple parents threaten to pull their children if you can't get your son under control."

Before she had even finished talking, Draco was shaking his head. No, she couldn't be telling the truth, she just couldn't be. She was lying. The other children were lying. He'd talked to his son for close to two hours yesterday, and he'd detailed all of the things that they had done him while he was in the classroom or on the playground.

"There has to be some sort of conspiracy among the children to get him into trouble. He said that last Wednesday—"

Hermione interrupted him as she cast a sorting charm on her incident reports and slipped out the one from the last Wednesday, which wasn't even the most recent one in the stack.

"Last Wednesday, while Electra Wood was trying to tell her friends about the circus that her father was going to take her to over the weekend, Scorpius told her that only filthy mudbloods would find something like the circus fun."

Draco shook his head again, sitting up straighter in his chair. "That can't possibly be true. We don't use that word in our home," at that Hermione snorted loudly, before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. "No really Granger, we don't. So I don't know where he would have heard it that he would be calling that little Wood girl that name. He told me that he asked the girl if they had dragons at the circus and she called him all sorts of names for asking what she deemed to be a stupid question."

"Mr. Malfoy, I realize that it's not easy to accept, but I have, on average, three incidents a week involving your son since school has begun this term, and not one of them implies that he is the victim. Now, I think that you need to talk to him seriously, and find out why he's lying to you."

Malfoy shook his head yet again and held up a hand to cut her off. "There's surely some sort of oath or something that you took that shook guarantee that you're looking out for the safety of all of your students, and so I think its time that you put aside your stupid post-war prejudices Granger and get over yourself. He doesn't deserve to have this covered up and swept under the rug so that you can exact some sort of revenge on me."

Hermione flew to her feet, knocked her cup of tea to the ground, but hardly noticing in her ire. "Revenge? _My_ 'post-war prejudices'? Your son is the one who has used hateful slurs against other students for an entire term! I thought that you might be willing to do something to help steer him in the right direction, but it looks like instead you'd rather groom him to be exactly like you! Just a hateful little boy who stomps all over his classmates and expects _Father_ to come running whenever he has a mess to clean up! I did take an oath to protect my students, and right now my biggest goal is to protect them from your son."

She sat back down in her chair, brushing her hair back from her face. " _Merlin_ , I thought you'd changed. I thought that you were some new, reformed, forward thinking wizard, but you're still preaching that same old blood-supremacy nonsense, and you're setting a dangerous precedent for you son. Now, either you talk to Scorpius and get him to stop antagonizing my students, or I will personally recommend to the headmaster that it is in everyone's best interests that he is removed from the school."

Draco stood up, his chair flying back behind him. "That sounded an awful lot like a threat, Granger. And I'll have you know, that I don't take kindly to threats. You don't know shit about me or my family, and your foolishness is going to lead to someone getting severely hurt."

He turned to leave, taking a step towards the door before pausing.

"And it might just be you."

And with those words, Draco Malfoy shut the door behind him with a quiet click, which somehow seemed to echo through her classroom louder than a slammed door would have.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco landed back in his study, sitting down heavily in his chair. How could she? You'd think that such a bleeding heart like a sodding Gryffindor would be able to muster up even some semblance of compassion over a young boy who was being terrorized every day. And what was this nonsense about his prejudices?

Anyone who'd spent any amount of time with Draco Malfoy after the war had to admit that he was a changed man. Or, rather than being a changed man, he was a man who was finally permitted to take charge of his own life, rather than blindly follow the orders of a raving, lunatic of a half-blood. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd called someone a mudblood, and it certainly was before Scorpius were born. So that left the question—where one Merlin's green earth could the boy have heard such a thing?

Astoria was more into blood politics than he was, but even she'd had to admit that the Muggles weren't all bad—especially the first time she'd gone to London and realized what exactly it was that the Muggles had to offer in terms of fashion and design. Maybe it was just one of those things that the older children at the school would say, something to gain attention and shock value, rubbing it in for the younger years just how "cool" and "dangerous" they were.

Or as cool and dangerous as a ten-year-old can be, at any rate.

How dare she assume that just because he'd been a right terror as a child, that he was instilling some horrible copy of himself into his own son. Draco Malfoy was certainly a product of his upbringing, just as Scorpius Malfoy was a product of his own. Scorpius didn't need to fear drastic punishments, a dark lord, and a cold and detached home life. Sure, Astoria didn't seem to be able to pick her own son out of a line up, but Draco had certainly done his best to ensure that his son knew that he was loved. Unfortunately, that may have resulted in Scorpius being a bit spoiled at times, but at least it was a good, clean, honest spoiling, not a constant barrage of toys to make up for harsh words and harsher hands.

If there was one thing the Draco Malfoy had vowed to do differently from his own father, it would be to protect his son at all costs, and to listen to the things that brought him trouble. And, if Hermione Granger was too hung up on the past to listen to the tales of misery and woe that came from a young boy just because of his heritage, then Draco would be all too happy to point out just how much the tables had turned.

Merlin, he needed to talk to Scorpius. There must be some reason that all of the other children were treating him like this, and if he could just figure out the reason then he might be able to come up with some way to stop it.

A cursory check of Scorpius' bedroom, playroom, and library didn't reveal the whereabouts of the child. After close to an hour of searching with Draco getting rather close to just accio'ing the child to him, Scorpius suddenly appeared around a bend, near the entrance to the wing of the house that Draco had deemed off limits following the fall of the Dark Lord.

"Scorp, what are you doing over here? We talked about this, I don't want you playing this far into the house. Meet me in your room in a couple of minutes, I'd like to talk to you about Ms. Granger."

Scorpius nodded and hurried off to his room to await his father. Draco immediately turned his back to his son in order to check that the entrance to the wing was still locked tightly, and as such missed Scorpius sliding something from the folds of his robes into his pockets before he continued on his way.

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Scorpius Malfoy could still remember the day that he first met his grandfather Lucius. Of course, he'd never actually met his grandfather, for the man had died in Azkaban a few years before he was born. However, he'd somehow managed to stumble upon a little known entrance to the wing of the Manor that his own father had closed off after the war. Scorpius liked the east wing of the house, and he wished that he were allowed to spend more of his time there. Sure, it was dark and cold, which frightened him at times, but there was an undercurrent of magic in the walls that made him feel… alive.

He'd made his way one morning to a door that seemed to exude a welcoming warmth, inviting him to turn the knob and take a peek. And so he had.

The room was lit by a small fire that burned in the fireplace, and somehow managed to completely illuminate the portrait hanging above the mantle. As the door clicked shut, the portrait had sat up just a little bit taller in his velvet upholstered wingback chair. The same chair which sat facing the fireplace at that moment.

Lucius took a moment to observe the boy standing in the doorway. Based on the look of the boy, he wasn't very far removed from Lucius, only a generation or two. Time passed rather differently when you were a portrait stuck in a room without windows and the only clock in the room was directly beneath you. At any rate, the boy looked rather like Draco had at that age, leading Lucius to assume that his son was most likely the boy's father.

Draco. What a disappointment. Following his death and the fall of the Dark Lord, Lucius had been trapped to in his only portrait in the section of the Manor that was almost never explored. Immediately after his pardoning, his son had swept through and closed off half of his ancestral home, but not before giving his father an earful. Lucius was forced to sit and listen to some nonsense about how he'd ruined his only son's life, and how difficult it would be to restore the Malfoy name.

What a load of thestral dung.

Lucius himself had brought the Malfoys back from the edge of destruction no fewer than three separate times, and his son would surely be able to do the same. At least, he'd be able to do the same assuming that he wasn't a completely incompetent whelp. Unfortunately, that seemed to be too much to ask, as Draco seemed to think that he possessed the ability to do it all on his own. The fool.

This boy, assuming that he was as easily malleable as his own son had been, would be relatively easy to sway to his own side. With any luck, Lucius would be freed from the wall of his study, and would be able to exert some power over the direction that his family went.

"And who might you be, young one?"

The boy looked up at the regal man in the portrait. The portrait had been done well before the Dark Lord had an opportunity to root himself into the Manor and the Malfoys' lives, and as such Lucius was in the prime of his painted life. His hair was long, thick and smooth, hardly the frizzy, disheveled mess that it'd been by the end. His robes were full and well-tailored, and his cane gleamed from its place next to the chair.

Even young Scorpius could tell that this was a man who knew how powerful he was, and had absolutely no false modesty as to his own abilities.

"My name is Scorpius Malfoy, sir. Were you a Malfoy, too?"

Lucius smirked at the respectful tone in the boy's voice. At least there was one thing that his son had done properly. There was nothing worse than a child who didn't seem to possess the ability to respect those who were his betters—like those dreadful Weasleys. They wouldn't know how to properly address a Hippogriff, let alone a powerful wizard.

"I still am a Malfoy, young Scorpius. That is one thing that even death can never take away from you. There are some things that are far greater than this realm, and the legacy of our family is one of them. Tell me, lad, who are your parents?"

The boy still stood standing in front of the portrait, head craned back in order to see the figure of his grandfather.

"And please, have a seat," Lucius added with a sweep of his hand toward the chair before him. Scorpius had climbed up into the chair as gracefully as someone of only four feet tall could, before answering Lucius' question.

"My name is Scorpius Malfoy, and my parents are Draco and Astoria Malfoy. Do you know them?" Lucius had to chuckle at the eager tone in the boy's voice. This might be even easier than he'd thought.

"Yes, I knew your father quite well at one point. In fact, when he was a little boy, he looked rather a lot like you do. Tell me, young Scorpius, what is your father like now?" Lucius leaned forward in his chair, trying to seem inviting and curious.

"He's very sad. My mummy isn't around very much and I think that makes him sad."

Lucius rolled his eyes. So, Draco couldn't even handle typical pureblooded family politics. Of course. How hard is it to acknowledge that it just goes with the territory? The only duty in a pureblooded marriage is too produce an heir. In fact, Draco should be thankful that he didn't have a doddering wife constantly hounding him. Ungrateful swine. Well then, Lucius would just have to provide the strong male influence that Scorpius seemed to be lacking in his life.

Merlin knows the boy needed it.

TTWT TTWT TTWT TTWT

Since then, Scorpius had made quite the habit out of visiting his grandfather in times of trouble. He'd heard, of course, all sorts of awful things about the former Malfoy patriarch from his own father, but he was having an awfully hard time reconciling all of that nonsense with the man who helped him sort out his troubles. The Lucius Malfoy that Scorpius spent much of his time speaking with seemed to take a genuine interest in the boy, and often gave him very helpful advice, quite unlike what his father had led him to believe of the man.

He was growing to see just how weak his father really was. It was far from challenging for Scorpius to get him to do as he wished, and all it took were a few tears and a bit of shaking for his father to do as he wished and believe any word that came out of his mouth. What a fool. Grandfather was right in that regard—Draco Malfoy was absolutely and completely weak.

How else could he tolerate the ridiculousness that his mother insisted on carrying on with? It was as his grandfather had said: women were to do as their husbands wished, and the husband had a duty to ensure that his wishes were carried out. Instead, his father acted like a simpering fool and allowed his mother to gallivant off to Italy or France with anyone who would take her. Foolish behavior from a Pureblood coming from the both of them.

In the beginning, Scorpius really had been bullied by the other children at the school, but this had been before entering Hermione's year. The other children had made fun of him, telling him that his Grandfather was a bad man and his father deserved to be in Azkaban. When he'd told his grandfather of all of this, Lucius had calmly assured him that they were all jealous because the Malfoy bloodline remained one of the few, truly pure lines in wizarding Britain, and it was certainly something to be proud of.

From that day forward, Scorpius had taken note of those who dared insult him and his family, and he began planning how to best exact his revenge on the fools who thought that they might possibly be better than a Malfoy.

Unfortunately, in this way, he'd learned that his teacher, Ms. Granger, was a mudblood. That was very hard for him to wrap his head around, as his grandfather had told him that all mudbloods were foolish and inferior in every way to the purebloods. They were out to steal magic from their betters, and were just a waste of space and power.

But that didn't sound like Ms. Granger. She was very smart, and she knew almost everything. If any of the students had a question, she'd take the time to explain the answer exhaustively, and if she didn't know the answer she'd look it up at night and tell them the result the next day when they all arrived back in the classroom. She seemed very nice, and even when Scorpius was in trouble for saying mean things or hurting another child, she never got mad—instead, she seemed to be deeply disappointed with him, something that he was very unfamiliar with.

And besides, if she were trying to steal their magic from them, why would she be teaching them how to be the best wizards they that they could be?

It was all very confusing for him, but his grandfather had said that looks could be deceiving, so even though he cared rather a lot for his teacher, he tried to harden his heart against her. But it was certainly hard for him to do. Ms. Granger was more kind to him than his own mother was, and she made sure that he was okay and gave him extra help with his school work when he was struggling. She seemed to understand his desire to be the best, and she didn't seem to fault him for it either, where all of the other children had made fun of him.

Sitting on his bed, he made sure that his stories were all neatly lined up so that when his father came to talk to him about the meeting with Ms. Granger he would be able to hold his own. His grandfather was counting on him, and he could hardly let him down.

Draco opened the door to his son's room, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge across from Scorpius. "Scorp… what Ms. Granger told me tonight and what you told me last night don't line up. I'm not accusing you of lying, especially given some of the details of her story. Do you remember what happened last Wednesday at school? I want to hear about it again."

Scorpius' eyes widened somewhat, and tried to make his eyes water, jaw trembling. He couldn't _quite_ remember the details of what he'd told his father. He could remember well enough that he thought he'd be able to convince his father that the teacher was wrong, but it'd really be pushing it. He'd need all of that Malfoy cunning that his grandfather had told him about in order to pull this one off.

"I was talking to Florence when she started making fun of me for being stupid."

"Why would she had called you stupid, Scorpius? And I want to tell you now, that no one who know you would ever be able to call you stupid."

Scorpius knew that he and his father had already gone over all of this the night before. Damn, he really should have put more effort into memorizing his story.

"She said that they were all going to go play and I said I'd rather be in the library and then she called me stupid and said all sorts of things."

Draco almost raised an eyebrow, but instead decided to keep a relatively cool façade against his son.

"Florence, did you say? That's the little Finnegan girl, isn't it?"

Scorpius nodded quickly. "Yeah, Florence Finnegan. She was so very mean, papa."

This time, it was far harder to avoid raising his eyebrow. Finnegan had no children, and he was actually very proud of the fact. He didn't know who this 'Florence' was, but she certainly wasn't a Finnegan. Not to mention, that the report from Granger had mentioned Electra Wood, that little Scottish girl, and had not even mentioned another girl. And their disagreement had been recorded as revolving around a circus and a stupid question, not about a library and a game.

Deciding not to ask his son any more questions, he stood from the bed and patted Scorpius on the shoulder before kissing him on the forehead. "Thanks, Scorp. I'll see that something is done about all of this."

Walking out of his son's bedroom and back into the hallway, Draco had a niggling feeling. This feeling told him that someone was lying to Draco Malfoy, and he had the biggest fear that he owed a certain someone an apology.

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Quite a ways away, on the European continent proper, Astoria Malfoy was laying between a set of silk sheets, her head on Theodore Nott's chest.

"I really wish you wouldn't go back to him. He's a fool, to not realize what a wonderful wife he's missing out on." As Theodore spoke, his voice vibrated in her ear, and she snuggled herself deeper against him.

"I know, Ted. You think I want to go back to a miserable excuse for a husband and a whiny brat? Sometimes I'm not certain which one of them drives me the craziest."

He chuckled lowly, and she tightened her arms around him. "You know how much I want to leave him, but you know that unless he's the one to request the divorce I'm not going to get anything out of it. He can keep the boy, I don't particularly want him anyway, but I do think that I deserve to be repaid somehow for my… services to the Malfoy line."

"That's all well and good," Theo said as he disentangled himself from her arms and made his way over to the armoire in the corner, pouring himself a tumbler of firewhiskey. "But how many years now have yo0u been playing your subversive little game? He doesn't care, Tori. We're going to have to come up with something better than just sitting and waiting around for him to grow tired of this charade if you want to try to get out of there. I want to be able to walk down the street with you, _in Diagon Alley_ , without having to worry about being recognized.

"I realize that the Malfoy name somehow managed to come out of the war more unscathed than the Nott name did, but we've been together for close to ten years now, and I'm tired of the hiding."

Theo crossed the room and reached into his robes, pulling out a small velvet box. "Damn it, Astoria. I've had a ring for you for years now, but I'm not going to give it to you or let you see it until you're Astoria Greengrass again, and until I have the possibility of making you Astoria Nott."

Astoria leapt from the bed and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck ad breathing in his smell. "Oh, Ted… I want nothing more than to be able to hold your hand and walk in the sun rather than slinking about in the shadows. But you know as well as I do that Britain has not been very quick to forgive those that took part on our side of that blasted war. Know this, Theodore Nott: I am yours in every way except for name only. I'll work harder, and I'll get him to end things. I'll get my fair share in the courts, and then you and I will have enough that we can be a proper pair. How does that sound?"

Theo sat his now empty tumbler down on the sideboard and gently crushed her to his chest.

"It sounds like the best thing I've heard all night, witch."

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Heading back to her flat, Hermione Granger was still furious over what had just occurred in her classroom. She'd heard all sorts of wonderful things about Malfoy, about how much he'd changed for the better and how he had so much to offer the wizarding world now that he wasn't tied down by the influence of his father.

Bullshit.

He was no different than that no good, rotten Lucius Malfoy. After all, the apple really mustn't fall far from the tree—and Scorpius was proof enough of that. The boy was kind enough when on his own, and had once applied himself very thoroughly to his studies. Lately, however, his performance had been a bit lacking and she'd had to help him far more than she had before, and with every point that his grades dropping, his attitude seemed to follow.

Hermione had little doubt that talking to Malfoy would not at all improve Scorpius' attitude. She knew that Malfoy didn't believe her for one minute, or that if he did he wouldn't be very likely to do anything to but a stop to the behavior either. And what was that load of thestral shit about not using the word 'mudblood' in their home? After all, Draco Malfoy himself had been Hermione's first introduction to that horrid phrase. He may come bearing the façade of a reformed Samaritan to the wizarding population as a whole, but based on his son's behavior and what she'd witnessed tonight, she had no doubt in her mind that it was nothing but a front. Draco Malfoy was the same terrible, prejudiced Wizard who'd left her in tears numerous times over the span of nearly a decade—and it seemed as though he was grooming young Scorpius to do the same.

Sitting down in her kitchen with a far too large glass of wine and the remnants of last night's chicken parm, she set to work grading her students' research reports into various magical creatures when she came to Scorpius'.

 _Crups look like dogs. They have a forked tail but one has to be sliced in case they get free. They hate mugles. If a crup ever finds a mugle it will be very bad becase crups will eat anything even mugles. You have to get a special lisense to have a crup but I think you should have to get a special lisense to be a mugle. Crups are the best pets for wizards becase they keep us safe from mugles and mud bloods._

Eyes wide, Hermione set the paper down on her table and stared at it. She hadn't realized that Malfoy's effects on the boy had gotten to be this bad. Merlin, he'd seemed like such a sweet boy, too. He used to stay after class to help her tidy up, and in reward she'd given him chocolate frogs. She still remembered the day that he got her as his frog card, and the awe in his eyes when he realized that Ms. Granger, _his teacher_ , was a "decorated war hero". Eyes still wide, she got up almost unseeingly to answer the tapping of an owl at her window.

Sliding the letter from the owl's leg and showing it where she kept a bowl of treats, she unrolled in carefully, eyes even wider than before as she sat heavily on her couch.

 _Granger,_

 _I don't know what's going on, but you and I need to talk again—and soon. I have a lot that I need to tell you, and quite a lot that I need to ask of you as well. We need to disregard what was said tonight, as I reckon that we both said much that we didn't mean._

 _Granger, something's wrong with my son, and I'm going to need your help to figure it out._

 _Draco Lucius Malfoy_

Merlin, where had she left that glass of wine?


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Draco awoke quietly with a distinct feeling of unease. There was something afoot, and whatever it was, he certainly was not pleased. Scorpius _was_ , in fact, lying to him about the bullying at school, and while part of him still held out hope that Scorpius was just melding several different memories into one badly remembered occurrence, the vast majority of him knew the truth.

There was something horribly wrong with Scorpius Malfoy.

Another question that he absolutely needed to know that answer to, was where exactly had Scorpius picked up the word "mudblood"? He had made a dramatic effort after the war to not become embroiled with the ridiculous pureblooded politics that were his birthright, and instead he had made more of an effort to recognize that which the muggles and muggle-borns had to offer to the wizarding world. After all, their greatest despot was a halfblood, and two-thirds of the Golden Trio that had brought about his destruction were of "inferior" bloodrights themselves.

Making his way downstairs, Draco sat in the solarium, looking out over the wide expanse of the Malfoy gardens. The gardens had been his mother's only refuge, and she had spent much of her time constantly managing the upkeep of the grounds. This room had been one of his favorites growing up, and for that he was immensely grateful that it was in the west wing of the house, and as such still available to him.

The sunroom was surprisingly small for a room in the Malfoy Manor, but still on a scale that would make the average wizard balk. Any wall not covered in windows was a pale yellow close to white, and gauzy white curtains framed each window. Furniture built purely for comfort, not appearances lined the room, and a slight smell of verbena always hung in the air. Lying back against the arm of the chaise, he called a house elf for a light breakfast, and gazed out of the windows while drinking a cuppa.

With any luck, a response from Granger would be arriving this morning, as he knew now that it was absolutely fundamental that he speak with her—but that would involve him swallowing his pride and apologizing, which was still rather difficult for him, given that he'd been raised to believe that, as a Malfoy, he owed absolutely nothing to anyone else.

As he ruminated on the possibilities of a discussion with Granger, that same handsome owl from a couple of nights before arrived at one of the room's many windows. Letting it in, he called a house elf to see that it was given proper treats and water before unrolling the missive.

 _Mr. Malfoy,_

 _What a shocking coincidence, given that I now also have quite a lot to tell you about your son—with any luck, my information and yours will be mutually enlightening. I would like to meet with you as soon as possible, and given that this morning is a Saturday I am free at almost any time that works for you. I won't be able to go into my office because of the day, but we can surely pick some venue for our discussion that will be mutually agreeable. Please contact me with a time and a location that you find suitable, and I look forward to trying to make some progress into the enigma that appears to be your son._

 _Hermione Granger._

Draco quickly drafted a reply asking her if they could meet for lunch at a bistro in Diagon Alley. With any luck, this could all be sorted by dinner time.

TTWT TTWT TTWT TTWT

At exactly 12 noon, Hermione Granger found herself seated in a booth waiting for Draco Malfoy. She had with her copies of the reports filed against Scorpius from the start of the term, as well as copies of his grades and the original version of that horrid essay he'd written about crups. While it was true that crups were, in fact, known to terrorize muggles when given the chance, there was something about the boy's wording that made the entire thing seem somewhat sinister, especially given the details of many of the reports recorded in the preceding weeks.

Finally, Draco appeared, and quickly spotting her, he made his way over to the table, sliding in across from her.

"Good Morning, Granger. Pleasant night?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Regardless of how she felt about Draco Malfoy, she was an education professional and he was the father of one of her students. She must do her absolute best to not let him get under her skin.

"Good _afternoon_ , Mr. Malfoy. I did not, in fact, have a pleasant night because I was up grading essays about the habits of magical creatures. I thought that you might be interested in reading the one that your son wrote," she said as coolly as possible, sliding the lined parchment across to him.

Draco let his eyes scan the paper quickly, wondering why an essay was the highlight of Granger's concern at the moment. Everything doesn't always have to relate back to books, but how did he expect her, of all people, to think that—

As he actually read his son's writing, his mental diatribe ceased. So _that's_ why she brought the essay. If it had been on its own, it might have seemed fairly innocuous. If it hadn't used the word 'mudblood' it might have been fairly innocuous. But when coupled with the goings on of the past few months this was downright sinister. Having to get a special license to exist as a muggle? How absolutely appalling. And there it was. There it was, in his son's large, childish handwriting.

 _Crups_ _look like dogs. They have a forked tail but one has to be sliced in case they get free. They hate_ _mugles_ _. If a crup ever finds a_ _mugle_ _it will be very bad_ _becase_ _crups_ _will eat anything even_ _mugles_ _. You have to get a special_ _lisense_ _to have a_ _crup_ _but I think you should have to get a special_ _lisense_ _to be a_ _mugle_ _. Crups are the best pets for wizards_ _becase_ _they keep us safe from_ _mugles_ _and mud bloods._

"Now," Hermione began as she saw his eyes stop moving across the page. "I don't know what it is that he's being taught at home, but if he's going to remain at Eaglecall—"

"Not this," Draco interrupted, waving a hand halfheartedly towards the parchment. "This is _not_ what's being taught in our home. Now, I know that you have absolutely no reason to believe me, but I really have put aside the supremacist bullshit that my father used to spout off to me. If my father weren't dead, I'd almost think that this has his markings all over it. He was, in fact, a firm supporter of muggle and muggle-born registration. His opinions on the matter weren't too far removed from those of those of Hitler.

"Furthermore, I can't even remember the last time that that infernal word came out of my mouth, but I certainly know that it was before my son's birth. Wherever it is that he's picking this up, I know that it isn't in my home."

Hermione really had a hard time believing that one. This man, the same Draco Malfoy that had made her life absolutely miserable for so many years, had called her every name in the book, and had made her doubt her impressive prowess as a witch, was claiming that he had not instilled any of those same traits in his own son, and their appearance was due to some other influence? They certainly didn't call her the most gullible witch of the age, so why was he treating her as though she were?

"Fine, Mr. Malfoy," she began, sitting up straighter in her chair and trying to look as though she were in control of the situation, even though he had grabbed the reins from her the minute he'd sat down. "We'll assume for the moment that he didn't learn any of this from you. Who else is an influence in his life that might be preaching these messages? How does his mother feel on the matter?"

Draco snorted, and actually _did_ roll his eyes. "Astoria is hardly around enough to have an influence on his life. I haven't seen her in over a fortnight, and she only came by to pack a new suitcase full of clothes, so he hasn't seen her in even longer. She isn't quite as accepting as many people are since the war ended, but I'd hardly consider her to be the paragon of blood power politics."

Hermione nodded and opened the folder that contained the incidence reports. "I don't know if you want to look through these or not, but these are all of the recorded incidents that we have about what he's said and done to the other students that they thought was severe enough to come and report it to me. We really have no idea about the true scope of things, because I'm certain that plenty has happened that they didn't feel it was prudent to inform me of."

Sliding the folder across the table, Draco began flipping through some of the pages. The events ranged from slurs against other students' heritage, to bouts of "accidental" magic that often left other students in pain.

Every word that he read in the reports was like a knife between his ribs. This was his _son_. How could the sweet young boy who still asked for a bedtime story after dinner be the same one who would spit this vitriol at his classmates?

"Now, I'd sent home letters with him in the past asking you about the occurrences, but based on your responses today I'm assuming that he never gave them to you, not that you were ignoring them."

Draco's eyes shot up to hers wide and vividly gray.

 _Had his eyes always been that bright? Merlin…_

"Granger, I assure you, if I had known… I don't want him to be anything like what I was. I was a hateful little boy, and I've been trying my best to prevent him from turning out like I did. Astoria's not around, she hasn't spent more than a few weeks at home since he was born. I'm all but raising him on my own, and I've tried so hard not to let him see that part of me that used to control every aspect of my life."

He made some noise in his throat that wasn't quite unlike a sob, and his head fell down in his hands.

"And you… I owe you an apology. I'm sorry for the other night—in your office, I mean. You didn't deserve that. I didn't want to believe you, I'd never seen this side of him until last night when he told me some story about the report from last Wednesday that you'd read to me. He'd already told me what had happened before I saw you, and what you said and what he said didn't match up at all, and then the story that he told me last night didn't match up with _either_ of those."

There were many thoughts running through Hermione Granger's head, and only of few of those were intelligible. Draco _sodding_ Malfoy was apologizing. To her. Because she "didn't deserve it"? Oh merciful Merlin. Harry and Ron would never believe this.

"Well… thank you. Really. It means a lot to me. We need to come up with a game plan as to figure out who exactly is exerting this influence over him. I was wondering if he was just maturing and if that's why he didn't show much of an interest in spending time with me anymore, but blood supremacy actually makes more sense—especially if he's lacking a female influence in his life."

Draco cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. "Spending time with you? He never really mentioned you much… How close were you two?"

Hermione wasn't too surprised that Scorpius hadn't mentioned her, especially if Draco and Astoria were having the kinds of problems that Draco had touched upon. She must have been some sort of refuge or outlet for the boy, and she would need to find a way to offer that to him again.

"Well, he would spend extra time with me during lunch and recesses, and I would help him with his school work or any additional learning that he wanted. Regardless of this mess that we're in now, Scorpius is a very bright lad, and I want to see him succeed. That's actually another topic of interest here."

Draco looked up and had to resist the urge to sigh. What else could possibly be going on here? What more could his son be doing?

"I've noticed," Hermione began with a somewhat concerned look towards Draco, "That his grades have slipped quite a lot. It seems as though the more of him is delegated to the harassment of his classmates, the less effort he puts into his schoolwork. We'll also need to discuss some way that we can improve his grades. Otherwise, there's always the possibility that we may have to hold him back."

Draco jerked in his seat and almost knocked over his water glass. Holding Scorpius back? No Malfoy had ever performed so inadequately in school as to have the even remotest possibility of being withheld from the next level of education.

"But I may have some good news," Hermione carried on, seemingly unaware that she'd just delivered a barrage of blows to Malfoy's poor psyche. "There's a spell I know of that will track who he spends his time talking to. That way, we'll be able to find out who exactly might be giving him these ideas. It's a fascinating spell really, originally created by husbands to—"

"Yes, Granger, I know which spell you're talking about. After all, it was invented by a Malfoy, was it not? What about his grades?"

Hermione, somewhat unsettled by the brusque interruption of what she thought was a very interesting history, quieted for a moment.

"What if I begin coming over to the manor? Or he could begin coming to my flat? I could work with him more on his work, and we could make it a bit like how it used to be, when he was perfectly willing to interact with me in an effort to learn more."

Draco liked this idea. Having the "brightest witch of the age" as his son's more-or-less private tutor? Sure, she was already his teacher, but this would give Scorpius a leg up on his studies.

"That sounds like it could certainly work. Not only that…" Draco trailed off, trying to think of a way of finishing the sentence. "But maybe with you around more, interacting on a slightly more casual front, he'll begin to see muggle-borns and muggles as any other person again. Could you come over tonight to begin his... reeducation? You could cast the charm that'll track his discussions as well."

Hermione mentally ran through her obligations for the night. Sure, she had agreed to meet Harry and Ron for drinks, but this was far, far more important. With any luck, she'd be able to come up with a convincing cover story, because the two of them certainly wouldn't understand why she'd be working with Draco Malfoy, of all people.

"Yes, tonight should work. Although, like you said, a Malfoy did invent the spell, so why don't you just do it yourself?"

Draco chuckled and put some money on the table to pay for his untouched cup of tea before standing. "Just because a Malfoy invented a spell to keep track of the movements of one's wife, doesn't mean that I have any experience with casting it. And besides," he said with a wry smile as he shrugged his jacket on, "You were always better than me at Charms. See you at seven, Granger. The floo will allow you in."

And with that, he was gone.


End file.
